


New Year's(ish) Resolutions

by teresavampa



Series: that one AU where they live in Boston [1]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-07 12:31:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3173818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teresavampa/pseuds/teresavampa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt's been single for way too long, Minho has no sense of boundaries, and everyone spends way too much time comparing their lives to a romantic comedy. Also, there's a cat at one point and a title that only actually applies to, like, two chapters maximum.</p>
<p>Or, the fake dating AU no one asked for. (Drug use/addiction does not apply to any of the canon characters, Newt's suicide attempt is only referenced as a past event, and potential triggers/squicks will be warned for at the start of each chapter. The tags make it sound really serious but it's actually 90% fluff and silliness and cuteness.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on my own Tumblr post, because why not. However, I changed and added plot details as I wrote, so the end result isn't quite like the outline in the post. http://teresavampa.tumblr.com/post/106971292059/teresavampa-i-cant-stop-thinking-about-a-nalby

It all began over breakfast.

“Hey, Newt, when was the last time you went on a date?” Minho asked casually. Very casually. Too casually.

Newt could feel a creeping sense of horror, but tried to repress it. Maybe he was being paranoid. Sure, Minho was a bit of a loose cannon--he liked to take risks and mess with his friends, and of course there had been the incident with the parrot and the landlord at their old building that Newt still shuddered to think about--but he usually knew when to stop, and the fact that he was asking about Newt’s love life didn’t necessarily mean that he had anything diabolical planned. Probably.

Guardedly, he admitted, “It’s been about eight months.”

Minho sprayed his orange juice across the table in a very theatrical spittake. (Which, in Newt’s opinion, was wholly unnecessary and more than a little bit unfair. Just because Minho’s idea of a good time was sleeping around like a sitcom character, that didn’t mean Newt needed to act the same way. Although it _had_ been a while…) “You haven’t had sex in _eight months?!_ ” he cried.

“Whoa, first of all, I’ve deliberately not been going on dates, okay, it’s not like I’m trying and striking out. You do remember what happened the last time I went out with someone, yeah?"

Minho nodded. "Oh, right, when the restaurant had to call the police."

"Yes. And secondly, you asked me about the last time I was on a date, not the last time I slept with someone,” Newt corrected him.

Minho’s whole body relaxed as he sank against the back of his chair. He gave a sigh of relief, pressed his hand to his heart, and said, “Okay, phew, ‘cause for a moment there I thought--”

“It’s been ten months on that count.”

The noise Minho made then could perhaps best be described as a scream, though that term didn’t fully capture the horror and pain being communicated. It was a noise full of rich undertones and agonized wailing; it was the last roar of a mortally wounded beast; it was shock, unhappiness, and betrayal in its purest form. In a weird way, Newt was sorry to have to cut it short. “Minho, we have _neighbors_ ,” he hissed.

Minho obediently shut up and stared at his roommate with something new in his eyes--respect? Hurt? Oh God, were those actual tears? “Who are you, Newt?” he whispered. “What have you seen? What paths have you walked?”

Newt rolled his eyes. “Okay, you’re being way weirder than normal this morning, and I don’t know if it’s something you ate or if you act like this every time you find out someone’s had a dry spell longer than three weeks and I just haven’t noticed--” He heard Minho mutter some protest about how _ten months is too long, Newt_ , but he ignored it and kept talking. “--but either way I don’t have time for it. Whatever ulterior motive you have for asking me about my last date is just gonna have to wait until tonight.” With that, he grabbed his coat and headed for the door of the apartment, making as much noise as possible along the way to drown out the sound of Minho shouting the details of his plan after him. It almost worked, but as he closed the door he made out a fragment of a sentence anyways.

“--let me set you up with someone!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first few chapters are all setup, so I'm uploading those in one burst tonight, assuming I can actually figure out how to add chapters to a fic on here. I could technically just upload them as one chapter with breaks, but it flowed awkwardly when I tried that. I actually have the whole fic written already, but I'm going to be uploading the rest of it probably at a rate of a chapter a day, just to keep it at the top of the tag longer.
> 
> This whole fic is self-beta'd, unless "beta" isn't the term for an editor anymore in which case it's self-whatever-lingo-you-kids-are-using'd. (Seriously, the last time I published a fanfiction, limes and lemons were still how we marked smut and everyone used ff.n or lj. AO3 is a new and terrifying beast to me.)
> 
> On a related note, I'd like to spare you all the disappointment by warning in advance that there's not going to be any smut in this. I'm a sex-averse asexual, and it's really better for everyone if I don't try to write that.
> 
> I'm not guaranteeing that there'll be more than one fic in this series, but I really fell in love with this AU while I was writing it and I'd like to return to it and maybe develop the other characters more, so I'm posting it as part one of a series just in case.
> 
> Shoutout to Sisi for encouraging me to write this. I don't know your AO3 username. I don't know anyone's AO3 username. I am so lost and confused.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: brief reference to drug use and addiction.

Minho burst into Thomas’ apartment without knocking. To be fair, he had texted Thomas beforehand saying that he was coming over, though then again he hadn’t actually _asked_ if he could come over, but had simply declared that he and Frypan would be there soon and left it to the other two to accommodate his plans. Before even saying hello, he asked, “Is Frypan here yet?” He was so excited about his plan that he drummed his hands against the wall to vent some of his energy, almost drowning out Frypan’s “I’m in the kitchen!” and Thomas’ “Jesus, dude, can you _knock?_ ”

“I’ve figured out my New Year’s resolution,” Minho announced, steamrolling over both of them in order to get his idea out in the open that much quicker. “This year, I’m gonna get Newt to go on at least five dates with the same person.”

“Last week you said your New Year’s resolution was to get him to eat kale,” Frypan objected. “Plus, I’m pretty sure the point of resolutions is to improve yourself, not to manipulate your roommate’s life.”

“There’s also the fact that, y’know, it’s _February_ ,” Thomas added.

“First off, Frypan, do you know how much it sucks being the only person in my apartment who eats kale? I can’t eat a whole bundle by myself before it goes bad, and no one else will help me finish it off just because you all claim it ‘tastes like garbage’ or whatever. Second, I’m perfectly aware of the point of New Year’s resolutions, but I couldn’t think of anything I could improve about myself, so I decided to improve my friends instead, and frankly you should just be grateful I picked Newt and not one of you two. And Thomas, I don’t actually have a rebuttal for you, but you should shut up anyways and help me think of someone to set Newt up with.” Speech given, Minho folded his arms and waited for one of his friends to speak.

Frypan was the first to offer a suggestion. “What about Ben?” he asked, crossing from Thomas’ kitchen doorway to join him and Minho in the living room.

Minho wrinkled his brow. “Ben?” he considered. “I haven’t seen him since graduation, but yeah, Ben could work.”

Thomas cleared his throat awkwardly and said, “Uh, but, guys, isn’t Ben… well… isn’t he in prison?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right.” Minho frowned. “Then again, it’s only a three-year sentence, and everything he did was, like, white collar, financial, victimless bullshit, right? I mean, it’s not like he killed anybody...”

Frypan mercifully derailed that train of thought before it could get too far. “Minho, you cannot set one of your best friends up with a guy doing prison time for multiple felony convictions,” he said, firmly cutting Minho off.

“Well, do you have any other ideas? Newt’s unbelievably picky, especially after the last guy he went out with turned out to be addicted to cocaine,” Minho said, trying and failing not to sound judgmental. (But seriously, who let one measly little drug addict doing a rail or two in the middle of dinner put them off of dating for _eight freaking months?_ God, it’s not like the guy was a Republican or a Yankees fan or something.) “To be completely honest, I think Newt would hate, like, 90% of the people I know outside of our friend group, and the ones he would like are already taken.”

Frypan sighed irritably. “Well, you’re gonna have to think of someone, ‘cause it’s not like we can go inside our friend group for someone to set him up with.”

“Actually--” Thomas broke in hesitantly. “Actually, I did have a thought the other day that’s kind of relevant, but I don’t know, it’s kind of far-fetched.”

“I’m all ears. Let’s hear it, newbie,” said Minho. (Thomas and Teresa had transferred to their college at the beginning of junior year and had been the newbies of the friend group ever since. It probably should have concerned them all more that that meant they hadn’t made any new friends as a group in, like, six years.)

Thomas shrugged. “Well, what about Alby?”

For a moment, neither Frypan nor Minho spoke as they considered the suggestion, reevaluating their entire perception of Newt and Alby’s relationship. The silence dragged on so long that Thomas began to look worried, but just before he could defend himself, Minho finally reached his decision.

“Thomas,” he said, his voice nothing short of awestruck, “you might just be a goddamn genius.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Republicans and Yankees fans are the two worst types of people I can possibly imagine. People who eat kale are close behind (looking at you, Mom and Dad).


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: incest kind of? There's a joke about setting two adopted siblings up on a date, idk if that actually counts.
> 
> This switches POVs a few paragraphs in and I'm officially claiming it's for artistic reasons and not "I was too lazy to rewrite it" reasons.

The more Minho had thought about it, the more sense all of it made. Newt and Alby had known each other longer than anyone in the group. They got along almost flawlessly, and although Minho hadn’t noticed it until Thomas pointed it out, they treated each other differently than their other friends--they were gentler and less abrasive and could even be described as sweet with one another, and they both smiled a lot more easily when the other was around. He was actually a little embarrassed and a lot surprised that it had taken the better part of a decade and help from _Thomas_ of all people for him to see what should have been obvious all along: Newt and Alby were in love with each other, and it was Minho’s duty as their friend to fix them up.

That night, when Newt came home, Minho bounded over to him, trying to restrain his enthusiasm. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he said, “Alright, it’s tonight, which is when you promised I could tell you about my awesome idea for your love life.”

“Not one word of that is true,” Newt said, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it by the door. “All I said was that I didn’t have time to listen to you this morning and you would have to save it for later.”

“Come on, Newt,” Minho pleaded. “I swear this is actually a great idea. Just hear me out.”

Newt sighed. Minho could be pushy and hard to get along with, but he almost always acted out of love for his friends, which made him hard to say no to. “Fine. Tell me about your great idea.”

Immediately, Minho beamed. “Well, since you’ve been alone so long you’re in danger of turning into a monk, I thought I would set you up on a date. I thought of the perfect guy, too, and while I haven’t actually talked to him about any of this yet, we shouldn’t have any problems talking him into it, because he happens to be a very close friend of ours.” He paused, letting the suspense build a little, then said, “It’s Alby.”

Newt stared at Minho for a long moment. Pulling up every ounce of sarcasm in his body, he said, “Oh, yes, brilliant! I’ll date _Alby_. Why didn’t I see it sooner? I mean, we’ve known each other since high school, and we’ve been best friends for ten years, and neither of us has the slightest romantic inclination towards the other--of course we should go out! That’s genius, that is. Hey, when you’re done with me, maybe you can set Thomas up on a date with Teresa!”

Minho rolled his eyes. “Okay, first of all, if you react like that every time someone suggests something you disagree with, then it’s no wonder you can’t get a date. Secondly, Thomas and Teresa would be cute together if Teresa wasn’t aromantic. And asexual. And his adopted sister.” The fact that he said the last part almost like an afterthought worried Newt a little.

“Those are some bloody big _if_ s, Minho. Insurmountable, I’d say.”

“Yeah, probably,” Minho conceded. “But don’t think you can just change the subject and get away from this conversation. I know you say you’ve been friends for too long and you don’t see each other that way, but that’s what the leads in every decent romantic comedy say, and they always end up together.”

Newt desperately wanted to threaten to shut off their cable and put parental controls on Minho’s computer if he didn’t stop comparing their lives to a romantic comedy, but he sensed a golden distraction opportunity and couldn’t pass it up. “Wait, if Alby and I are the lead characters in the romantic comedy version of our friend group, who would everyone else be?”

“I’d be the hilarious, quirky single friend, obviously, and Thomas would be the awkward, unattractive one who still somehow gets dates with people way out of his league,” Minho began, clearly having thought about this at some length. “Harriet and Sonya are the old married couple, or they will be if they ever actually get married, Brenda’s the sassy party girl, Teresa’s a wildcard, Frypan’s the straight man, Gally’s the guy who’s set against your relationship but isn’t really a villain, you know, he just has some misconceptions, like the dad from _Dirty Dancing_ \--

“ _Dirty Dancing_ wasn’t a comedy.”

“I know, but he’s that type of character--wait, none of this is the point of this conversation!” Newt cursed internally. Minho was so hyper and easily distracted sometimes that it was easy to forget how smart he was. “You will go on at least one date with Alby,” he insisted.

Newt frowned as he thought this over. “What happens if one of us says no?” he asked.

Minho looked taken aback, then quickly tried to cover for it. “Well--you can’t,” he said awkwardly.

“We can, though,” Newt pointed out. “I mean, this is a free country, it’s not like you can force us to go out if we don’t want to.”

“I have ways,” Minho promised. “For all you know, I could work for the CIA.”

Newt had to laugh at that. The mental image of Minho trying to coerce information from someone was plainly ridiculous. “I’ve known you since we were eighteen, Minho. Any ‘ways’ you may have, I’m sure I’ve seen by now. I’m not dating Alby, and that’s that.”

“But--”

“Goodnight, Minho.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Minho but I'm not convinced his assessment of who would be who in a romantic comedy is accurate. I think he and Thomas would be the leads, honestly.
> 
> Aro ace Teresa is life. So is aro ace Gally but he's literally got one line in this entire fic so.
> 
> I feel like modern AU Minho would have a lot of energy due to being forced to stay inside and sit still all day rather than running the Maze.
> 
> This is the last chapter for tonight, but Alby finally shows up in chapter 4 and the whole fake dating thing finally starts to come together. I wasn't kidding when I said that the first few chapters were just setup.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: none.

The next morning, Newt woke up to Minho standing over his bed holding a cell phone. Newt’s cell phone. He blinked confusedly at his roommate and mumbled, “Minho, what…?” He didn’t get a chance to finish the question, as Minho turned tail and bolted for Newt’s bedroom door as soon as he realized he’d been caught. Newt tried to follow him, but with Minho’s past as a cross-country star and Newt’s bad ankle still stiff from the cold weather, it was no contest. As soon as they got close to the doorway, Minho shoved a large, dark shape through into the bedroom, knocking the wind out of Newt and sending him crashing to the floor while Minho darted into the living room and slammed the door shut. Judging from the scraping and thumping sounds that filtered through to the bedroom, he was barricading Newt in.

The shape Minho had shoved at him, as it turned out, was Alby, who was sitting on the floor groaning and rubbing his head where it had collided with Newt’s face. “Ow, God! Sorry about that,” he said. “Minho told me there was an emergency and I had to come over right away, but then when I got here it turned out he’d lied, and, well, here we are.”

“You know, I caught him in the middle of stealing my phone. Did he take yours, too?” Newt asked as he helped Alby to his feet, already suspecting Minho’s plan.

Alby frowned and patted his pockets. “I’m not sure, I--”

“I did!” Minho called through the door. “You can have them back when you agree to go out. Until then, you’re not getting out of there.”

Alby looked more confused than before. “Go out? Minho, what are you talking about?” he asked, wrinkling his forehead.

“Newt, you tell him,” Minho said.

Newt sighed. He didn’t particularly want to go along with what Minho said, but he didn’t seem to have much of a choice. Reluctantly, he explained, “Yesterday, Minho decided that he wanted to set me up with someone, and somehow got the idiotic idea that you and I would be perfect for each other.”

Minho, evidently still listening in on their conversation, protested, “It’s not idiotic, it’s genius! You’ve both been single for a pathetically long time, and you obviously have feelings for each other--” Newt looked at Alby and mouthed, _What the fuck is he talking about?_ Alby shrugged, looking equally lost. “--so if the two of you get together, we’ll be killing two birds with one stone!”

“Also, it wasn’t his idea, it was mine,” a new voice added. It was Thomas.

If anything, Newt felt even more pissed off and betrayed. Having Minho mess with him was one thing, but knowing that he’d convinced one of their other best friends to help was an unexpected blow. He found himself wondering just how many people were in on it. Leaning close to the door to be sure anyone and everyone in the living room could hear him, he called out, “Thomas, you’re helping him? Who else is working with you?”

“Well,” Thomas said, “pretty much everyone knows about it by now, ‘cause we sent out a mass text letting them know what we were doing. Harriet and Gally think it’s a bad idea--” Newt cursed quietly, remembering Minho’s assessment of Gally’s role in the romantic comedy of their lives from the night before. He really, really didn’t want Minho to be right about this. “--but everyone else is basically on board. But the only people who actually came up with this plan were me and Minho and Frypan.”

Rather sheepishly, Frypan said, “Hey, Newt.”

“Et tu, Sigmund?” Newt muttered, turning away from the door and back to Alby, who was now sitting cross-legged on Newt’s bed.

As Newt approached, Alby offered him a sympathetic grimace. “So, I guess our friends are pretty much forcing us to date,” he said, leaning back to rest his weight on his palms. “I’m pretty sure that’s a sign of an overly-involved friendship, for the record.”

“Probably, yeah,” Newt agreed, settling down next to him on the bed. “I visited my sister last month and her friends didn’t hold each other hostage even once.”

Alby grinned and looked around the room, considering different methods of escape. “Y’know, Minho may have our phones, but that doesn’t necessarily mean we’re trapped here. Maybe we could climb out the window,” he suggested.

Newt shook his head. “Fire escape’s outside the living room, the walls of the building are smooth brick, it’s icy out, and we’re on the fourth floor. If we try to climb out that window, we’ll die, guaranteed.” _Wow, way to be positive and receptive to other people’s ideas, Newt,_ he chided himself. _Maybe Minho’s right about that being the reason you’re single._

“Fine, maybe not climb out, but we could open it and yell for help. Get one of your neighbors to call someone, maybe.” Although Alby was the one trying to find a way out, he seemed surprisingly relaxed and noncommittal. Newt suspected that he just didn’t want to leave the warmth of the apartment for the late winter frost outside.

“I’m pretty sure Minho could actually get arrested for this, and as annoying as this plan of his is, I don’t think we should ruin his life over it,” argued Newt.

Alby shrugged. “Well then, I don’t know what to do,” he said. “The only other way out is through the door, but the only way that’s happening is if we agree to Minho’s idea about us dating, and, no offense, I really don’t want to date you.”

Newt shoved his shoulder playfully. “Hey, you’re no catch either, you know,” he said tauntingly. He was about to continue when a thought struck him and he went completely still. “What if…” he said slowly, trailing off as his eyes unfocused and his lips silently mouthed half-formed words, his idea flickering rapidly into being and solidifying.

Alby watched him with interest. “What if what?” he asked patiently.

Newt struggled to form his thoughts into cohesive sentences. “Well, the only way out of here is if Minho thinks we’re dating, yeah? Well, the key word there is ‘thinks’. We really just have to tell him we’re gonna go out, don’t we?”

“Theoretically, yes,” Alby said with a frown, “but it’s _Minho_. Do you really think he’s not going to enforce this? If we tell him we’ll go out, he’ll make sure we actually do.”

“So then we’ll go out, we just won’t _go out_ ,” said Newt. Alby looked confused, so he clarified, “I mean, we’ll go on what seems like a date, and we’ll tell the others it’s a date, but you and I will know that it’s not actually a date.” Alby was still frowning, and Newt felt his heart sink a bit. “You don’t like it,” he said.

“Well, it’s not a bad idea, per se,” Alby replied, “but it feels kind of like we’d be letting them win. I mean, from Minho’s perspective, it would just reinforce the idea that he was right all along and can totally play God with his friends’ lives. Not to mention that it would probably just encourage everyone’s dumbass idea that we’re secretly in love with each other or whatever.” He waved his hands a little during the last part, as though he was a cheap storyteller setting the scene for some ridiculous fairy tale where the two of them had romantic feelings for each other and somehow hadn’t noticed them for a decade.

Newt allowed a small laugh at the idea while he considered ways to teach their friends a lesson. After a moment of contemplation, he said, “You know what we could do? It’d take a hell of a lot of commitment, but we could pretend to keep dating for a while, and then fake some horrible breakup that makes them all think they’re gonna have to pick sides. Then, when they’re all really nervous and thinking we’re gonna tear the whole group apart, we tell them that that’s why they shouldn’t mess with people’s love lives.”

Alby stared at him for a long moment. A really long moment. A worryingly long moment. The kind of moment that was so long that it would make men who built skyscrapers and drove aggressive, muscular trucks feel uncomfortable and start to shuffle their feet insecurely. Newt was beginning to worry that he’d gone too far when Alby finally said, “Newt, that’s diabolical.”

“Yeah, sorry, I don’t know why I--”

“Let’s do it.”

* * *

Minho, Thomas, and Frypan were sitting on the couch when they heard Newt’s voice calling from his bedroom. “Okay, Minho, we’ll do it,” he said.

The guys traded suspicious looks. They hadn’t expected Newt or Alby to give in so easily. Guardedly, Frypan called back, “For real?”

“For real,” Alby confirmed. “We’ll go on a date, we promise. Now let us out of here, please.”

“ ‘Promise’ ain’t good enough,” Minho warned. “You gotta actually do it, ya hear? I’m gonna follow you guys and make sure you really go out.”

There was a pause. “That seems a little excessive,” said Newt. Out in the living room, Thomas nodded silently in agreement, earning him a glare from Minho.

Minho rolled his eyes. “Well, it’s not like I’m gonna be right at the table with you or anything. It’ll just be a quick check-in to make sure you’re actually there.”

Even through the door, they could all hear Alby’s exasperated sigh. “Fine, whatever. Just let us out already.”

Grinning ear to ear, Minho pulled apart the impromptu barricade he’d made in front of Newt’s room and pulled the door open. “Glad to know you’ve seen the brilliance of my idea, nerds,” he greeted them.

“You mean my idea?” Thomas asked from the couch, twisting his head to direct his words at Minho.

“Oh, shut up, Thomas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, in this fic about Newt and Alby fake dating, neither Alby nor the fake dating plan actually come in until chapter 4. I am not the most adept at pacing. However, from here on out the average chapter length gets a lot longer, so this is really still pretty close to the beginning of the fic.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: further allusions to drugs (and the subsequent talks with the police) in the form of that guy Newt dated.

They went on their date-that-secretly-wasn’t-a-date that evening. Minho, as expected, stopped by halfway through to ensure they’d fulfilled their half of the bargain. Harriet and Sonya following them the entire time was something of a surprise, however.

They were seated at adjacent tables, Newt and Harriet on one side, Alby and Sonya on the other. As soon as the women sat down, Newt demanded, “Did Minho put you up to this?”

“No!” Sonya protested, but the hint of a giggle in her voice betrayed her.

Harriet didn’t bother lying. “Yes. For the record, I don’t agree with what he’s been doing, but he offered to pay us, so…” She shrugged and looked at her menu.

Alby made a disgusted sound. “Why would he have you follow us when he was already planning to check in in person?” he asked.

“He wants to make sure it goes well,” Sonya said. “Honestly, I think you’re all being too hard on him. I know he’s pushy, but he really just wants you two to be happy. We all do,” she added as an afterthought.

“ ‘Pushy’? He _held us hostage_ , Sonya,” Newt reminded her. “I don’t care if it turns out that Alby is the love of my life, I’m still pretty sure I’d be happier if he hadn’t done that.”

Sonya scoffed. “Well, it’s not like you were going to go out with him otherwise. I mean, you’re so weird about dating nowadays.”

Newt was clearly starting to get worked up, and repeated in an incredulous voice, “Weird about dating? Sonya, after my last date, I don’t think it’s possible to be weird about dating--” Sonya tried to interrupt, but Newt kept going, too, and they both ended up talking over each other.

“I really think you overreacted, honestly--”

“--he did it right off of the plate--”

“--you’d think no one else in the world had ever had a bad date before--”

“--I had to talk to the police for _four hours_ \--”

Alby could tell that they were about to set off on a really long, circuitous argument, and decided to put an end to it before it could get any farther. Rubbing his temple with one hand, he snapped, “Oh my God, _will you both be quiet?_ ” Newt and Sonya both fell silent and looked at him in surprise. “Seriously, just--who cares?” Alby said tiredly.

“Honestly, it’s like every time you two argue about something, you’ve gotta keep picking at it. Just agree to disagree and move on,” Harriet added.

Reprimanding done, there was momentary awkward silence as they all struggled to think of things to say. They had all known each other way too long for normal first date conversations to be necessary; they already knew about each other’s families and jobs and hometowns. Harriet began to fill the silence by talking about her latest biological research project, and gradually the conversation picked back up until they were all talking more or less normally. When Minho stopped by, he expressed some outrage at Harriet and Sonya for having blown their cover so quickly, but let it slide in favor of checking in on Newt and Alby.

“So, how are things going?” he asked, leaning his elbows on the table and resting his chin in his hands with a bright, devious grin.

Newt smiled at him tightly, but the tenseness around his eyes betrayed how irritated he still was with Minho for screwing with him. “Fine,” he said in a mild tone.

“Are you gonna go out again?” Minho asked. His voice and facial expression gave every sign that he was just asking out of polite, friendly curiosity, but there was a challenge in his eyes.

Alby and Newt exchanged glances. This was their last chance to bail out. After this, there was no turning back. With the tiniest of nods, they agreed to rise to the occasion.

Newt met Minho’s gaze again and held it steadily. “Yes,” he said, “yes, we are.”

And with that, they were officially fake dating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is so short and relatively non-Nalby-ish. After this they get pretty long and pretty heavily focused on those two. I might post chapter 6 today too just because I think it's much better quality than this chapter, which I was stuck on for ages and was the last thing I actually wrote for this fic.
> 
> I really, really, really like Harriet and Sonya. I also like the idea of them being friends with Newt and Alby, because their personalities are so similar that the four of them could either be an unstoppable force or drive each other up the wall.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: vague references to anxiety, depression, self-harm/suicide.

At first, Newt had worried that pretending to be physically affectionate would be too awkward for either of them to bear, but it turned out to be one of the easiest parts of the operation. All it took was a quick discussion via text message the morning after their first fake date to work out their boundaries.

Newt: so i had a thought [sent 8:09 AM]  
Newt: at some point people are probably going to expect us to kiss [sent 8:09 AM]  
Alby: yeah, probably [sent 8:14 AM]  
Newt: jsyk i don’t mind kissing you [sent 8:15 AM]  
Alby: me neither [sent 8:15 AM]  
Alby: but you know im not super publicly affectionate w/ people im dating [sent 8:16 AM]  
Newt: i was just thinking rly basic stuff [sent 8:16 AM]  
Newt: like kiss hello/goodbye [sent 8:16 AM]  
Newt: maybe hold hands sometimes [sent 8:17 AM]  
Newt: that kind of thing [sent 8:17 AM]  
Newt: ? [sent 8:20 AM]  
Alby: yeah sounds good [sent 8:28 AM]

And that was that. Soon enough, it became routine for them to simply be near one another. They’d exchange greetings and goodbyes with a quick peck on the lips or the cheek whenever their friends were around, and they began to sit close together even when it was just the two of them. Newt had to admit that he somewhat enjoyed it. It wasn’t that he was attracted to Alby, although from an objective standpoint, he knew that Alby was attractive; it was just that it had been so long since anyone had kissed him or held his hand or touched him that even meaningless versions of romantic gestures felt nice, comforting.

He meant to keep feelings like that secret, of course. Besides the risk of being misinterpreted, there was also the fact that he knew he’d sound absolutely pathetic if he admitted them out loud. What kind of person was so lonely that they had to pretend to date their best friend just to get physical affection from another human being? But one night, Newt found himself alone in his apartment and craving human contact so badly that his chest ached. That ache quickly spiraled into wondering what was wrong with him if he didn’t even have any potential dating prospects, which in turn spiraled into a full-blown crisis about how _oh God no one will ever love me I’m going to die alone_. Minho was out, and when all their friends thought they were dating, the only person who seemed appropriate to call for emergency heartfelt conversations at midnight was his best friend-slash-fake boyfriend. He deliberated with himself for a moment, then pulled out his cell phone and pressed Alby’s speed dial. It rang twice before he picked up.

“H’lo?” Alby asked muzzily.

Newt smiled weakly. “Hey, Alby, it’s me. I, um, I know it sounds stupid, but I’m just feeling really down right now and I was hoping you could come over.”

Instantly, Alby sounded awake and concerned. “Is everything okay? Do you need me to take you to the hospital, or--”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Newt quickly reassured him. “It’s not the same as in high school, I mean, I’m not depressed or in danger or anything. I’m just--I’m sad, is all.”

“I’ll be right over,” Alby said, and hung up.

When he got to the apartment, Newt let him inside without a word and quickly returned to where he’d been sitting curled in the corner of the couch, picking at a loose thread on one of the cushions. Alby followed quietly and sat next to him, looking worried. “Newt, what’s the matter?” he pressed, placing his hand on top of the one plucking at the long-suffering couch cushion.

For a moment, Newt didn’t respond, trying to find a way to answer that didn’t make him sound like an utter loser. Finally, he said, “I’m completely alone.”

“No, you aren’t,” Alby said. “You’ve got me, and Minho, and Thomas, and--”

“Yeah, sure, I have friends, but I’m talking about boyfriends,” Newt said. “I haven’t been in a real relationship in three years, you know that? Ever since then, it’s just been a few dates that wind up fizzling out, or one night stands that aren’t even that good. I haven’t been on a third date in over a year, and even when our friends tried to set me up with someone they thought I’d have a real chance with, they ended up making me date _you_ \--er, no offense. And yeah, the last eight months or so I’ve been deliberately out of the game, but I’m wondering if I’m ever going to be able to get back in.”

Alby shrugged. “I get it. You’re lonely, and you’re worried about the future. It happens to the best of us,” he said.

Newt shook his head and protested, “Yeah, but this is worse than normal loneliness. It’s gotten to the point that I’m actually enjoying the PDA we put on when the others are around.” _Oh, shit_ , he cursed internally, _why did I say that?_ Alby went very still and quiet, and Newt rushed to explain. “I mean, I’m not saying I’m suddenly developing feelings for you or anything, I just mean it’s nice to have someone touch me that way, even platonically. It’s like… it’s like a little reminder of what it’s like to have someone love me.” Newt felt himself start to choke up. He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand and tried to cover the break in his voice with a laugh. “Sorry, I must sound bloody pathetic right now--”

“No, you don’t,” Alby interrupted, looking at him with concern. “It’s okay to be lonely, y’know. You don’t have to pretend you’re fine when you aren’t. And yeah, maybe no one’s in love with you right now, but don’t think for a second that that means no one loves you, because it’s not true. I promise you’re gonna find someone soon.” He squeezed Newt’s hand and smiled sympathetically at him.

Newt returned the smile, though his was a bit watery. “And until that happens?” he asked.

“Til then,” Alby said, wrapping both arms around his friend and drawing him close to his chest, “ya got me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for the kind of sad chapter. Next one is complete fluff with zero plot, so it balances out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: more vague references to Newt's suicide attempt.

Alby wasn’t sure what he was expecting when Newt called him at 7 AM on a Tuesday, but being asked to help rescue a cat definitely wasn’t his top guess. Nonetheless, he soon found himself leaning his entire torso out of Newt’s bedroom window with Newt holding him back so he wouldn’t fall out completely, trying to either bribe a skinny cream-colored stray closer to him or herd it towards Minho, who was crouched on the fire escape making clucking sounds. (He wasn’t exactly sure which was the plan, so he was alternating between tactics every few minutes. This mostly seemed to irritate the cat and make it less inclined to cooperate with him either way.)

The rescue attempt was also made more difficult by the fact that Alby was shorter and more muscular than Newt, and they were constantly struggling to stay balanced and secure. Really, it would have made more sense for Newt to be the one reaching for the cat with Alby keeping him anchored in the room, but Newt had been afraid of heights ever since high school and Alby had been afraid of seeing Newt near heights for exactly as long, so they just had to make do.

Apparently, Newt had woken up that morning to a pathetic meowing coming from outside his window. A stray cat had found its way onto an extremely narrow outcropping of brick that ran around the building and gotten stuck up there. He and Minho had tried to grab it, but it was too far away to reach from inside the apartment. Why they had thought Alby could help, he had no idea, but here he was.

“Here, kitty,” he called, shaking an open can of tuna enticingly at it. “Come inside so I can go to work and not freeze my face off out here.”

“Don’t be passive-aggressive to the cat, Alby, she’s just scared,” Newt said crossly from behind him.

Alby turned his head as much as he dared and looked at Newt curiously. “How do you know it’s a she?” he asked.

Newt shrugged, a dangerous move when he was one of the few things keeping Alby from falling four stories headfirst. “Just a guess,” he said.

Alby looked back at the cat and got an idea. Ignoring the cold, oily water in the can, he plucked out a shred of tuna with his fingers and gently tossed it at the cat. She backed away, puffing out her fur, then slowly approached the fish, which had landed on the ledge a few feet away from the window. Delicately, she picked it up and swallowed. Alby tossed another piece of tuna, this one closer to himself. Gradually, he lured her in until she was within reach, at which point he set the tuna down, grabbed her around her bony middle, and hauled her in through the window, which Newt slammed shut. When he handed the cat off to Newt, he couldn’t help but notice how her pale fur almost perfectly matched his blond hair.

“Minho, we got her!” Newt called towards the fire escape. Minho grunted some monosyllabic response, clearly less enthralled by the cat-capturing caper than Newt was. “So, what do you want to call her?” he asked as Minho clambered awkwardly through the too-small window between the fire escape and the living room.

Minho frowned and rubbed his neck. “Newt, we’re not allowed to have pets,” he reminded him brusquely.

Newt looked crestfallen. “But we can’t just put her back out on the streets! She was obviously starving,” he protested. “We need to find someone who can take her in.” There was a moment of silence as Newt cradled the cat protectively to his chest.

Alby became aware that both of his friends were looking at him. “Wha--no. No way,” he said. “I am not gonna be responsible for some feral cat who’s too dumb to even get down from a building.”

“You’re the only one whose building allows pets,” Minho pointed out.

“I don’t care. Take her to a shelter.”

“We don’t have time to take her in before work,” Newt said. “Come on, at least just let her stay the day.” He looked at Alby with pleading puppy-dog eyes and cuddled the cat closer to him.

Alby tried to resist, but the look on Newt’s face was nothing short of heartbreaking. “Fine,” he sighed, “she can stay at my place until we can take her to a shelter.”

Instantly, Newt’s pathetic expression was replaced with a victorious grin. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he cried, dropping the cat onto the couch and throwing his arms around Alby’s neck. He pulled back and quickly pressed his lips to Alby’s cheek.

Minho, who had watched the whole display with a look of amusement, cleared his throat and asked, “Hey, kind of a random question: would you guys consider this your fifth date? I mean, you’ve been on four so far, so is this number five?”

Alby and Newt traded confused and slightly suspicious looks. “Why do you care?” Alby asked.

“No reason,” said Minho.

He sounded entirely too innocent, but neither of them could see the harm in answering him, so Newt said, “Uh, sure, I guess this is date number five. Which is pretty good, seeing as we’ve only been going out less than three weeks.”

Minho grinned and fistpumped.

They never did end up taking the cat to a shelter. Alby left her in his apartment with food, water, and an impromptu litter box made from a cardboard box and some sand. When he came home from work that evening and sat down, she leapt straight into his lap and began to purr and knead his chest, and it was game over. A trip to the vet confirmed that she was indeed a she, and soon enough she was officially his cat. He called her Kitten, both because of her small size and because he wasn’t hugely creative when it came to naming things (though not as bad as their college friend Winston, who had named his dog Bark).

All of his friends grew attached to Kitten, and vice versa, but her favorite seemed to be Newt. Whenever he and Alby sat next to one another, she stretched out to lie on both their laps at once-- _like she wants us to stay close to each other,_ Alby thought.

He shook his head. _Wait, what?_ She was just a dumb, selfish cat who liked to hog two laps at once, and he was reading way too much into things. And what did he even mean, like she wanted them to stay together? _You and Newt aren’t together_ , he reminded himself. _You don’t even_ want _to be together. We’re best friends, that’s all._ Clearly, Minho was starting to get into his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even by my extremely low standards, this chapter was pretty fluffy, plotless bullshit. I honestly considered not actually including it, but it bugged me that I didn't resolve Minho's "five dates" goal otherwise.
> 
> This chapter (and this fic overall) is not my strongest or proudest writing, but I will admit that "cat-capturing caper" is the most fun phrase I've ever written.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: mentions/discussions of sex.

Newt found that one of the perks of this whole fake dating thing was that he and Alby got to spend a lot of time together separately from the rest of the group. As much as they loved all their other friends, sometimes it was nice to just hang out with no one but each other, the way it had been in high school. It was also fun to see Alby’s less serious side, which only showed its face around Newt or multiple shots of tequila.

Unfortunately for Newt, one evening about three weeks into their relationship-that-wasn’t, Alby’s less serious side had decided it would be fun to convince their friends that the two of them were having sex. Even less fortunately, he had decided to convince them of this by dragging Newt into his bedroom. Newt’s bedroom. The one in the apartment he shared with Minho. Who was in the living room with Thomas and Teresa.

(They were working on what they claimed was a project of the utmost scientific importance. These “projects of the utmost scientific importance” had been going on for years, and had all turned out to be miniature dioramas of things like city blocks, suburbs, and rural fields, complete with tiny people. Allegedly, they were gifts for Thomas and Teresa’s younger brother Chuck, but since Chuck was in college and had never seemed to display any interest in miniatures the few times Newt had met him, their actual purpose remained unknown. Newt’s money was on “building an entire miniature world, which they rule with an iron fist”.)

As he was pulled into his bedroom by his fake boyfriend, Newt felt the heat rise in his face. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was slightly embarrassed. He was usually a lot more private and discreet about his hookups; sneaking off while people were in the next room was very unlike him. _Bloody hell, you’re not_ actually _going to sleep with him_ , he reminded himself. Still, he decided not to join Alby, who by now was sitting on the floor at the foot of Newt’s bed, and instead chose to lie on his stomach on the bed itself, feet on his pillows and his head near Alby’s. He had almost gotten back to normal when--

“Maybe we should make noises or something,” Alby suggested.

Newt’s heart began to pound and his face reddened, but he tried desperately to act casual. “Noises?” he repeated, his voice at least half an octave higher than usual. _Good job on the whole “casual” thing, Newt. Really nailed it._

“Yeah. Noises,” Alby said. When Newt didn’t reply, he coughed awkwardly and clarified, “You know, to make it sound like we’re--”

"I got it,” Newt said quickly. "But the thing is, if we were to try to do the whole fake sex noises thing, I would almost definitely end up cracking some joke like, 'oh, you magnificent stallion!' and then the whole operation would be blown."

Alby grinned teasingly. “Whoa, are you implying that no one would believe you’d actually say something like that about me? I gotta say, I’m hurt.”

“Oh my _God_ \--”

“No, really, you have deeply and truly wounded me.”

“ _Alby_ \--”

“I’m just saying, even a fake relationship still needs respect.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Alby, if it’ll soothe your ego--you are absolutely a magnificent stallion, and I’m sure if we actually were sleeping together I’d be screaming that from the rooftops, and it’d only be, like, 40% sarcastic, as opposed to 100% as we stand right now,” Newt said, but there was no malice in any of his words. If anything, he felt hugely relieved that Alby had noticed how uncomfortable he was and put him at ease with teasing and jokes. He really was a great friend.

"You know, you weren’t nearly this sarcastic in high school. I think Minho’s rubbing off on you. Also, are you saying you're even sarcastic in bed? Because that would explain so much about your love life, actually," said Alby.

Newt reached down and shoved his shoulder. "No, I'm saying I’m sarcastic when I pretend to be in bed for the benefit of others. And I am alone by choice, thank you very much."

"And we all definitely believe you when you say it’s _your_ choice."

Newt shoved him again, harder this time, and knocked him onto his side. Alby laughed, then quickly grabbed Newt's arm in retaliation and yanked him down onto the floor with a loud thump. As they lay there grinning and catching their breath, the door opened.

"Could you keep it down? We’re working out there and you... two..." Teresa's voice trailed off as she took in the scene before her, then came back with a vengeance. She narrowed her eyes, put her hands on her hips, and continued, "...are wearing far more clothing than I would have expected."

Newt scrambled for an explanation, but Teresa was too quick-witted for him. "Your clothes are on, the whole room is relatively neat and smells normal--there is no possible way anything... untoward... was happening in here, and judging from the fact that you two were just lying next to each other on the floor even before I came in, nothing was about to happen either. Now my question is, why would two people in a relationship be _pretending_ to have sex?" She said all this quietly, but triumphantly, and, yes, a bit smugly, clearly relishing every word.

Alby and Newt exchanged panicked looks. Sometimes it was no fun at all being friends with a genius. They were never going to be able to come up with a lie that would fool her; their only hope now was to stop her from telling anyone else. “Close the door, and we’ll explain everything,” Newt promised in a whisper. She obeyed silently and raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. “You know how Minho and Thomas and Frypan basically forced us to go out? Well, what actually happened was we decided to pretend we’re dating, and then at some point we’re gonna have a huge breakup to show them they shouldn’t meddle in other people’s lives.” Alby nodded emphatically, as though putting more passion into their excuse would somehow entice her to keep her mouth shut.

Teresa sucked her lower lip in between her teeth as she thought over his explanation. Finally, she said, “So, you two aren’t really dating?”

“No.”

“And you don’t actually like each other that way?”

“No,” they confirmed simultaneously. If they’d said it too fast, Teresa didn’t seem to notice.

She shrugged. “Could have fooled me. But I’m always in favor of screwing with Thomas and Minho, so I won’t tell anyone about your little plan. Just be quieter, okay?” With that, she flipped her dark hair over her shoulder and headed back out into the living room.

Alby looked at Newt, apparently confused. “What did she mean, we could have fooled her?” he wondered. “Also, if she thought we were having sex, _why would she open the door?_ ”

“No idea on either count,” Newt said absently. Teresa’s logic was often hard to follow, and she loved dropping cryptic or obtuse statements into casual conversation. He’d learned years ago to not think too hard about some of the things she said or did, or he’d be up all night scratching his head. “Hey, after we’ve hidden in here about ten more minutes, you wanna grab some dinner?”

Alby grinned. “Good that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /writes a million awkward euphemisms for sex because I am too asexual for this shit but it's a staple of fake dating scenarios and also this chapter is about as close as this fic gets to an actual plot point
> 
> Also yeah, if you can't tell by now, Alby's characterization in this fic is mostly movie!Alby. When I first started writing I really wanted it to be mostly book characterizations but apparently I have no control over anything I write. Plus book!Alby is more reserved and under a lot more stress due to being a new leader and all so it's harder to get an idea of what his actual personality is like while movie!Alby is fairly friendly and pretty much has a handle on things so it's easier to figure out what he'd act like in normal, everyday situations.
> 
> Minho and Thomas and Teresa are into miniatures in this AU because that scene in the movie with the model Maze made me imagine Minho very carefully and meticulously building models and that's basically the cutest mental image ever.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: alcohol, discussion of sex, discussion of suicide.

Exactly one month into the charade, the first storm of the spring hit. Icy rain poured through gutters, spilled across clogged streets, and soaked into the knees of blue jeans citywide. Newt, his old injury aggravated by the weather, and Alby, prone to colds, had elected to spend their Friday evening locked in Newt’s apartment with a bottle of scotch rather than going out in the storm with their other friends. They were both already a couple of drinks in when a gust of wind knocked over a tree a few blocks away and downed a power line, instantly shutting off the television, the heat, and every light in the building.

For a moment, neither one said anything, too busy blinking in shock as their eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness. “Power outage,” Newt said at last.

“I can see that,” Alby agreed. “Do you have any candles?”

“There are some in my bedroom. We can move in there,” Newt suggested.

Alby let out a gasp of mock surprise and pulled a face, though he knew Newt couldn’t make out his features in the dark. “Newt, considering there’s no one else around, you’re getting awfully fresh--”

“Oh my God, I didn’t mean--” Newt put on an over-the-top sultry voice--“ _move into the bedroom_ , you jackass, I meant it’s smaller than the living room so we’ll be warmer. But if you want to make stupid jokes, you’re more than welcome to freeze out here by yourself.”

Alby laughed as he got to his feet, steady in spite of the scotch, and followed Newt into the bedroom. Once inside, Newt began to rummage through his drawers, attempting to fish out and light his candles with one hand and keep the bottle of alcohol secure in the other. Alby sighed and gently pushed his friend out of the way. “You’re gonna set yourself on fire, man,” he said. Newt began to protest, but Alby ignored him and focused on lighting the candles and placing them in safe spots around the room. When he had finished, he sat next to Newt, who had settled on the floor at the foot of his bed.

“So with no TV, I guess we could, I dunno, talk to each other or something,” Newt said.

“We could,” Alby acknowledged with a dip of his head. “Got anything particular in mind?”

Newt bit his lip. “Well… how long do you think we should keep this fake dating thing up?” he asked.

Alby shrugged and answered, “Honestly, I don’t know. At least a couple months. Don’t think we could have a realistically devastating breakup if we only ‘dated’ for a few weeks.” He made sure to form sarcastic air quotes around the word “dated”.

Nodding in silent agreement, Newt took a swig of scotch straight from the bottle, a move which made Alby shudder in horror. A lot of people were surprised to find that Newt, who was relatively willowy and delicate-looking compared to his friends, was actually one of the harder drinkers in the group. He could chug without so much as a grimace the types of liquor that most people could barely handle in shot form. Newt attributed this to having spent the first fifteen and a half years of his life in the U.K.; everyone else insisted his high tolerance was just some sort of genetic accident.

Trying to think of a new conversation topic, Alby leaned over and snatched the bottle away. He wiped the lip, took a drink, and closed his eyes against the burn of the scotch in his throat. Finally, he said, “I heard Harriet and Sonya are thinking about gettin’ married next spring.”

“Finally. Jesus.”

“Hey, they haven’t been engaged _that_ long,” Alby said defensively, but more out of principle than actual belief in what he was saying. Four years was a really long time to be engaged, even if they had been pretty young when they’d first proposed.

As if reading his mind, Newt echoed, “It’s been _four years_ , Alby. I mean, there’s a point where it stops being a long engagement and starts being basically meaningless.” He frowned. “That sounded too harsh, but you know what I mean.”

“I guess,” Alby said noncommittally. “But it’s not like they haven’t been doing anything about it. I mean, they’ve been putting money aside, and…”

Alby wasn’t sure how long they sat there passing the bottle back and forth, gradually growing drunker as they vented about their friends, their jobs, anything that was bothering them about their lives. The more they drank, the less upright they got, until Alby was lying propped up on his elbows and Newt was slouched against the frame of his bed in a position that looked horribly uncomfortable but didn’t seem to bother him.

“Y’know, the other day I found out Thomas got a tattoo and didn’t tell me,” Newt complained. “He said he thought I’d be mad at him. I mean, what the hell? Why should I care if he got a tattoo? I mean, sure, I was worried that he’d gotten it done at a sketchy place, or that he wouldn’t take care of it properly, or--”

Before he could stop himself, Alby interrupted, “Well, maybe if you let yourself stop being the group parent all the time, people wouldn’t hide that kind of stuff from you.”

“What does that mean?” Newt asked, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Seriously, you don’t know?” Newt shook his head. “You’re always so helpful and responsible and emotionally supportive and shit, it’s almost like we’re your kids--in addition to bein’ your friends, of course. And that’s not a bad thing, but you can come across as a little uptight, is all.” Alby shrugged. “I’m not saying you have to be Minho, but you could afford to cut loose a little more.”

Newt stared at him and laughed incredulously. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” he said with a stabbing hand gesture that made the scotch slosh in its bottle. “You’re _Alby_. Your idea of a fun time is eating bran cereal an’ watching TV shows that no one under fifty is supposed to watch. For chrissakes, yer DVR is nothing but Jeopardy an’ Antiques Roadshow an’ NCIS or CSI or some other acronym shit.”

Alby laughed too, grabbing the bottle and taking a sip. “Okay, so I’m not a hard partier,” he admitted. “But I do go out and do stupid shit sometimes. When in the past year have you done anything totally reckless and irresponsible?”

“You really wanna know?” Newt asked, eyebrows raised and a challenge in his voice. Alby nodded. “Okay then. Know why I haven’t had sex in eleven months? ‘S ‘cause I decided I needed to slow down--no more hookups, no more sex on the first date, none of it. And the reason I decided _that_ is,” Newt wriggled into a more upright position so that he could focus on Alby’s face and continued, “because eleven months ago I got a concussion while me an’ some guy were fucking against his kitchen counter.”

Alby felt a burning pain erupt in his throat as he sprayed out the scotch he’d been drinking. “Jesus _Christ_ , Newt--”

“Hey, it’s your own damn fault! You know I overshare when I’m drunk!” Newt protested.

“Trust me, I know,” Alby groaned. “Remember the first time we all got drunk as a group freshman year? You admitted to two fetishes and to trying to kill yourself when you were sixteen in the same breath.”

“Yeah,” said Newt, laughing at the memory of the evening. “I don’t think Gally’s been able to look me in the eye since.”

“Hell, I could barely act normally around you after that,” Alby joked. Newt smiled and took the scotch back without a word.

For a moment, there was silence as Newt drank. When he’d finished, he looked more serious than he had before. Gripping the bottle tighter and staring straight ahead, he quietly admitted, “I’m glad I didn’t, y’know. Kill myself, I mean. I’m glad you called 911. I know I was really mad at you for it when it happened, but I’m not anymore, and I haven’t been for a long time. I’m glad I’m alive.”

Alby looked at his best friend, a little hazily thanks to the alcohol and the warm lighting from the candles. “I’m glad you’re alive, too,” he said softly. He thought for a moment, then added, “Plus, hey, thanks to that, we know the answer to that one question.”

Newt looked at him with a fuzzy, drunken confusion. “Whaddaya mean?”

“If my friends jumped off a bridge, I wouldn’t jump too, I’d call for help. Honestly, that seems like a pretty obvious answer.” He punctuated this with a flippant shrug.

Newt chuckled, which wasn’t a thing Alby had thought people actually did in real life. When he had stopped, he turned his head towards his friend, and Alby found himself being inspected with a curious intensity. He froze, barely even breathing as he watched Newt, brow furrowed in concentration, examine his face like he’d never seen it before. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or not, but he thought he saw Newt’s eyes, pupils huge and dark, linger on his lips just a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

Newt looked at Alby. Alby looked at Newt.

The lights came back on.

Squinting against the sudden brightness, both of them jerked away from each other as though they’d been shocked. “Power’s back,” Newt commented.

“Yeah, obviously,” Alby said, trying very hard not to snap. All of a sudden, he felt incredibly irritable and didn’t know why. “Well, I’m pretty beat. I’ll just crash on your couch, if that’s okay,” he added, climbing to his feet and picking his way towards the door.

Newt quickly stood up and lunged after him, catching his wrist in one hand. “Are you crazy?” he hissed. “If Minho sees you sleeping on the couch, he’s going to think we had a fight, and then this whole situation is just going to get more complicated. You can sleep in here. I’ll take the floor; you can sleep in my bed.”

Alby agreed with his reasoning against staying on the couch, but argued, “I’m not going to kick you out of your own bed, Newt. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“But--”

“I said I’ll take the _floor_ , Newt,” Alby snarled, feeling his patience wearing thin. Immediately, he saw the hurt flash across Newt’s face and regretted losing his temper. “Sorry, I--”

“Save it,” Newt snapped, throwing a pillow and blanket at him from off his bed. He picked up and blew out each candle, then flipped the light switch off with an emphatic snap. “Goodnight, Alby,” he said curtly.

Alby stood there with the pillow and blanket in his hands, suddenly feeling helpless and alone. “Goodnight, Newt,” he murmured into the dark room.

There was no response.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a little bit of Alby's grumpiness to happen. Go me.
> 
> I didn't actually know Ki Hong Lee was on NCIS when I wrote that line. I was just thinking about the scene from 30 Rock where they're trying to figure out how old Tracy is and someone mentions that his favorite show is NCIS--"God, he could be seventy!"
> 
> Next chapter is the last one, obviously. It's also absurdly long compared to the others and my personal favorite.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: mentions of sex.

Another month passed. Neither Newt nor Alby brought up their fight except to say that clearly scotch had a weird effect on both of them and they should probably avoid getting scotch-drunk in the future. The charged moment preceding the spat wasn’t mentioned at all. Soon enough, they were back to normal, or at least as normal as things could be when you were pretending to date your best friend in order to prove a point to your other friends about boundaries. All that changed, however, when Newt sprinted into Alby’s apartment one Saturday morning and gasped, “We need to break up right now!”

Alby was bemused. “Okay. What’s the rush?”

Newt grinned shyly and leaned against the door. “I met someone. His name’s Clint, and we’re going out tonight at 7,” he confessed.

“And you think this Clint is worth throwing away everything we’ve fake worked for these past two months?” Alby said, raising his eyebrows and resting his elbows on the kitchen counter.

“Um, yeah? He’s hot, and he’s a doctor. He’s a hot doctor, Alby.”

“Wow, sounds like you two made a real meaningful connection,” Alby deadpanned. He wasn’t sure why he was needling Newt about this; after all, he should have been happy that his friend had an actual date and not just a fake one. “If you want to break up, we can do it later today. Everyone’s going to be over at Thomas’ place this afternoon anyways.”

“Thanks, Alby.” Newt smiled, a bit sadly. “I’ve gotta say, I know it’s a fake breakup, but I really am going to miss this.”

Alby shrugged. “End of an era, I guess,” he said. He hesitated, then added, “For the record, I’m going to miss this too.”

They spent the day mapping out a script for their breakup. It was brilliant, Oscar-worthy even--perfectly characteristic of both of them, exactly the right amount of shouting, maybe even tears in a few spots. That evening, when they both stormed into Thomas’ apartment mid-fake-argument, their friends bought it so well that Alby swore he could see terror in their eyes. Several people tried to talk them down, but they kept going, plowing through their lines with a vicious energy. After nearly half an hour, they decided they’d tortured their friends enough and broke character. Turning to face Minho, Thomas, and Frypan directly, Newt said, “And that’s why you need to stop meddling in our lives just because you think it’ll be fun.”

“Yeah,” Alby added, crossing his arms. “We need boundaries, people.”

The horror and fear on their friends’ faces had been replaced by utter confusion. “Sorry, what just happened?” Sonya asked.

Teresa, who had been playing a game on her phone for the duration of the “fight”, explained without looking up, “Minho and Thomas and Frypan forced them to go out even though they didn’t want to, so they’ve been pretending to date for two months just so they could freak us out with this whole breakup scene to teach us all a lesson about personal privacy. I found out about the plan on accident a little over a month ago.”

Harriet glared at Newt and Alby. “Why did I have to sit through this, then?” she demanded. “I was against making you guys go out for those exact reasons. Seriously, my exact words were, ‘You all need better boundaries.’ ”

“Same here,” Gally complained. “I told Thomas he was overstepping his boundaries two months ago, I had nothing to do with this.”

_Of course Gally would blame Thomas_ , Alby thought, but only said, “You two just happened to be here. It’s not like we could specifically ask you guys to leave and no one else.”

Brenda piped up, “Can I ask why you decided to break up now? I mean, no offense, but I feel like this would have been more effectively tragic if it was coming after you’d been dating--or ‘dating’--longer.”

Newt grinned and said, “Because I have a real date tonight, and I figured trying to explain the whole fake boyfriend thing would be a total recipe for disaster.”

There was a great deal of playful _oooh_ -ing and catcalling from everyone but Minho and Thomas, who still looked somewhat stunned at their failure. “Who is he? What’s his name?” Rachel called from her spot crammed into a single armchair with Thomas and Aris.

“His name’s Clint, and he’s a doctor at a private practice downtown,” Newt answered.

“Oh, Clint with the gray hair? I know him, he works in my building. He’s nice,” Aris said.

Alby looked at Newt in surprise. “You didn’t mention he had gray hair. How old is this guy?” he asked, sounding a bit more judgmental than he intended.

Newt didn’t seem to mind Alby’s tone, but mildly protested, “It’s prematurely gray, okay? And he’s not _that_ much older than me--he’s, like, thirty-two or something.”

Alby laughed as he settled into the spot on the couch between Minho and Teresa. “Whatever. Have fun with the Cryptkeeper,” he teased. Newt stuck his tongue out at him and departed.

Gally left shortly after Newt did, expressing his irritation at what a total waste of time the afternoon had turned out to be. Most of their other friends trickled out over the course of a few hours, and eventually the only people left were Alby, Minho, Thomas, Frypan, and Teresa. They put on a movie--some crap about werewolves that was older than any of them--but Alby found himself unable to focus. He kept wondering what Newt was doing on his date, if it was going well, if he really liked this Clint guy. What if they went out again? What if they kept dating? What if they got _married?_ More importantly, why did that bother him? He felt sick.

“Alby, if you don’t stop jiggling your leg, I’m going to cut it off,” Minho snapped, drawing him back to reality.

Alby considered making some retort or nasty comment about how Minho was constantly fidgeting and had no right to be bothered by other people doing it, but he couldn’t muster the energy. Instead, he mumbled, “ ‘Kay,” and went still.

His friends exchanged worried looks. Minho was one of the few people who could get away with backtalking Alby, but even then, he usually had some sort of sharp response. To quietly acquiesce without so much as a glare wasn’t like him. Frypan turned off the TV and asked, “Hey, Alby, you alright?”

“M’fine.”

“Well, obviously you aren’t, because if you were, you’d be enunciating your words more and sitting up straight, not mumbling and curling up like a kicked puppy,” Thomas argued. Alby tried to glare at him, but he could tell it had no effect.

“So, you can either tell us what’s eatin’ at you, or we can sit here all night trying to guess the problem,” Minho concluded. Once again, the three of them were ganging up on him the way they had two months ago. Evidently, his and Newt’s lesson hadn’t worked as well as they’d hoped.

His and Newt’s lesson. His and Newt’s. Newt. Newt was the problem. Alby didn’t know why, but knowing that his best friend was on a date right now was killing him, and he would have given anything to go back to that morning, before _Clint_ had come along and ruined things. “It’s Newt,” he admitted. “I was having a lot of fun hanging out with him separately from you guys and having that different dynamic together, and I’m gonna miss that now that we’re back to normal. Not to mention it kind of sucks that he ended that for a guy he met this morning. Did I mention that part yet? Because it’s true, they literally met twelve hours ago.” Alby stopped, aware that his friends were all staring at him. “What?”

“Holy shit, dude,” Frypan said. “You’ve got it bad.”

“What are you talking about?”

Minho grinned triumphantly. “What Frypan means is that I was right all along,” he explained. “You’re in love with Newt, and you’re just too clueless to realize it.”

Alby rolled his eyes. “Oh my God, Minho, I am _not_ in love with Newt,” he protested, but for the first time he was starting to doubt his own words.

Thomas only added fuel to that fire by saying, “Well, you definitely don’t treat him the same way you treat the rest of us. Or act the same way around him.”

“You two are like a coupla giggling schoolgirls sometimes,” Frypan added. “And when you’re not flirting over stupid jokes, you’re lookin’ at him all moony-eyed like he hung the damn stars in the sky.”

Alby waved his hands. “No, but--look, I know what crushes feel like, okay? And I don’t feel that way about Newt.”

For the first time in the conversation, Teresa chimed in, “Butterflies in the stomach, right?”

Everyone turned to look at her in surprise, but Alby affirmed, “Yeah, exactly.”

She twisted her lips wryly. “I’ve read about it. Those butterflies are actually an adrenaline response--nerves. They go away over time in every relationship as you stop feeling nervous around the other person. You’ve known Newt for ten years, so of course you’re not nervous around him anymore. But did you feel that way when you first met him?”

Alby thought back to the first months that he and Newt were friends. He’d never had a friend before who was so easy to talk to, who was so nonjudgmental and supportive. At the time, he’d assumed his nervous, fluttery feelings had just come from the newness of the whole experience, but what if… “Are you telling me you think I’ve been in love with my best friend for a _decade_ and didn’t figure it out until now?”

Teresa patted his leg comfortingly and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Not everyone can be as beautiful and perceptive as me, Alby,” she said with a sweet smile. “So yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Alby considered what she was saying. He remembered the intense moment during the blackout and how angry he’d gotten when it ended. He remembered how much fun he’d had pretending to date Newt, and how miserable he felt when he thought about the fact that Newt was on a date with someone else. He thought about Newt’s smile, his laugh, his messy hair; the way their personalities were almost perfectly complementary; the pure, deep-running happiness he felt when they were together. An intense, almost painful electric jolt yanked at his stomach and rushed tingling through his body as the truth hit him, abrupt and shocking as a slap to the face. His friends were right. They’d been right the whole time. He was in love with Newt.

“Oh, shit,” he moaned, covering his face with his hands. “Oh, no, no, no.”

“I’m guessing we were right, then?” Thomas said with a sympathetic smile.

Alby groaned some more. “Oh my God, what do I _do?_ I mean, where do we even go from here?” he asked to no one in particular.

“Well, it’s pretty clear what you need to do now,” Minho said. “You’ve gotta run to him and tell him how you feel.”

Alby dropped his hands and gave his friend a hard stare. “What? That makes no sense, Minho, I don’t even know where he is. Also, why wouldn’t I just text him? Or call him? And why would I run to meet him instead of taking a cab?”

Minho held up two fingers, which he ticked off as he addressed Alby’s points. “First, you do know where he is, because he texted me an hour ago that he was back at our apartment. And he’s alone, because despite not having gotten laid in a year he’s still refusing to have sex on the first date, because Newt’s self-control is actually terrifying. Also, he said the date wasn’t very good anyways.” Alby fought back a smile at that. “As for why you have to run to tell him in person… Teresa stole your phone and wallet and keys while we’ve been talking and we’re locking you out of the apartment. Have fun!” Minho delivered this information at bullet speed, and before Alby had finished fully processing it, he found himself being yanked to his feet and shoved into Thomas’ hallway, the door slamming shut behind him.

Alby took a moment to consider everything. This was a terrible idea. No one actually dramatically ran to confess their love to someone in real life, whatever Minho claimed. In the real world, if you had feelings for one of your friends, you just asked them out like a normal human being. Yet, in the face of all logic, and in spite of his inner rational self screaming for him to stop, Alby ran out of the building and into the street. Immediately, he found himself blinded by pouring rain. Of fucking _course_ it was raining, of _course_ he was going to have to run through a rainstorm to confess his feelings, god _damn_ Minho and his romantic comedy shit--

When he reached Newt and Minho’s apartment building, his mind was racing and his hands were shaking. He was so nervous that he had to search frantically for the right buzzer for a few seconds, even though he’d pressed it a thousand times before. He found it and pushed the button as hard and as irritatingly frequently as possible.

“Hello?” Newt’s voice crackled through the speaker. He sounded annoyed, but to Alby his voice was the most beautiful sound in the world, even when it was pissed off and filtered through a shitty intercom.

“Newt! Let me in, I need to talk to you right now!” Alby shouted. His heart was pounding, both from the run over and from the adrenaline pouring through his veins, and the last thing on his mind was volume control. Newt didn’t respond, but only buzzed him in without a word.

The race up the stairs to the fourth floor was easily the quickest Alby had ever run in his life, but to him it felt like an eternity had passed by the time he actually made it to Newt’s apartment. He hammered on the door and tried desperately to catch his breath.

Newt yanked open the door with a scowl on his face. “Jesus, Alby, what is so important that you had to--” he took stock of Alby’s soaking and exhausted appearance-- “I’m guessing _run_ here to talk to me in person at 10 PM?”

Alby struggled to find the words--or, no, not the words. He knew what he wanted to say. _I love you. Newt, I love you. I know you’re my best friend and you went on a date with someone else tonight and there’s absolutely no reason why you should be okay with me telling you this, but I love you._ After ten years of denying it, it was surprisingly easy to admit that he was in love--not just infatuated, or crushing, or attracted, but legitimately head over bloody heels, as Newt would say. What Alby was struggling with was how to begin, how to lead up to those words. He wiped some of the rain off of his face, took a breath, and tried anyways. “So, Minho told me your date didn’t go great.” _Holy crap, that was pathetic._

Newt looked incredulous, though that was about the nicest anyone probably could look after one of their friends obnoxiously forced their way into their apartment building seemingly just to talk about a failed date. “Uh, yeah, he was kind of boring, and neither of us were all that into each other,” he said. “Is that really all you wanted to talk about? I mean, you could have just texted me, or talked to me tomorrow.”

“No, I--I have more to say. Also, Teresa and Minho stole my phone. And my keys. And my wallet,” Alby admitted. “They wanted to make sure I had no options but to run over here.”

Newt frowned. “Why?”

“Well, earlier, we were talking about you, and, um... I thought, uh, you... we... oh, fuck it.” He had no idea how to get tactfully from Point A to Point B, and he was tired of beating around the bush. He’d hidden his feelings from everyone, including himself, for a decade, and that was long enough. His heart in his throat, Alby decided to screw delicacy and just say exactly what he felt, heedless of every logical impulse that said he shouldn’t. “Newt, I’m in love with you,” he said, his voice trembling with nerves or emotion or maybe both. “I know that makes me sound completely unhinged, but it’s the truth. I fell in love with you pretty much the moment I met you, and I’ve loved you ever since, even when we were so mad at each other that we weren’t even speaking, and I don’t know why it took me ten years to figure that out, but I finally did and I just--I needed you to know that.”

Newt stared at him. “Seriously?” he asked, face and voice completely unreadable.

“Seriously.”

For a long time, Newt didn’t react. He didn’t say a word or move a muscle, and his face remained completely neutral. Alby tried to fight the panic that was rising in his chest. _Oh God, oh God, oh God, he doesn’t feel the same way, I went way too far, now we’re not even gonna be able to be friends anymore._ He was just about to stutter some excuse about how this was all an elaborate joke and then spend the rest of his life hiding out in Siberia when--

“Oh, thank God,” Newt breathed before cupping his hands on the back of Alby’s neck and kissing him. It wasn’t soft or sweet or tender; they kissed desperately, relentlessly, like people who had just rediscovered air after almost drowning. Their teeth clacked together, their lips began to bruise, and their fingers dug painfully into each other’s skin; still, they held on, only breaking apart when they’d grown lightheaded and dizzy from the lack of oxygen. Even then, they kept their grips on one another as though they would never let go, Alby’s hands tight on Newt’s waist, Newt cradling Alby’s head, faces only inches apart, not even noticing or caring that Alby’s wet clothes were dripping on the hallway floor and getting Newt soaked. All of creation could have faded from existence in that moment and they wouldn’t have noticed, too busy looking at each other like nothing else in the world mattered.

“So, I’m not the only one? You feel the same way about me?” Alby whispered. Newt nodded as a slow smile began to bloom across his face. “When did you realize?”

“Tonight,” he admitted. “While I was at dinner, I may have talked about you. A lot. And I was always happier when I was talking about you than at pretty much any other point in the conversation, and I started wishing we’d kept up the fake dating thing longer because I liked all of our fake dates a lot better than that actual date. And then I realized that the reason I wasn’t having fun was because I kept thinking about you and wishing you were there instead, because I love spending time with you. Whether we’re alone or surrounded by people, I just love having you near me, because--because I love you too. I think I always have.” He said the words softly, but with conviction.

If life really were a romantic comedy, this was where Alby’s heart would have begun to race even faster, skipping a beat and soaring on the wings of elation or what-the-hell-ever metaphor was in vogue lately. Instead, he felt his pulse slow, calmed by the affirmation that he wasn’t wrong or delusional or lying to himself, that Newt really did return his feelings, that they could be together, for real this time.

They stood smiling in silence for a few seconds before Newt commented, “Y’know, I’ve been pacing around the living room for a bloody hour trying to decide what to do. I mean, it’s not like there are protocols for how to deal with realizing you’ve been in love with your best friend for the past decade.”

Alby grinned. “Hey, at least you actually put some thought into it. Soon as I realized, I just ran straight over here. ‘Course, Minho kind of forced me to,” he added.

Newt sighed, though he didn’t actually seem annoyed. “Ugh, he’s gonna be completely insufferable from now on, isn’t he?” he groaned.

“Probably. Right now I think he’s probably still just happy he got someone to run through a rainstorm to confess their feelings to someone else,” said Alby.

“To be fair, the rain’s probably just because it’s April and not because the universe wanted a satisfying climax for Minho’s weird fixation on making our lives into a cliché romance movie,” Newt pointed out. Alby laughed and kissed him again, gentler this time.

They stood that way for a while, gradually growing more passionate again. Alby lost track of time, distracted by the way he could feel Newt wrap his long, thin fingers in the collar of his jacket to pull him closer and how he moaned and gasped and seemed to melt as Alby pressed him harder and harder against the doorframe. After what could have been an hour or just five minutes, Newt broke away and leaned in until their foreheads were pressed together. “Bedroom?” he murmured breathlessly.

Alby felt his heart begin to race, but he tried to stay nonchalant. “What happened to your ‘no more sex on the first date’ policy?” he asked.

“Well, depending on how you look at it, we either had our first date ages ago, or haven’t had it at all yet,” Newt said. “Either way, saying we love each other and then making out on my doorstep definitely doesn’t count, so…"

Alby didn’t argue as Newt took him by the hand and led him back through the apartment.

* * *

Minho did, in fact, prove to be completely insufferable, smugly greeting the pair as they stumbled bleary-eyed into the living room the next morning. “So! What have we learned from all this?” he asked chipperly from his seat atop the kitchen table.

Alby glowered at him. “Jesus, Minho, can we at least get some coffee before you--”

“We _learned_ ,” Minho continued, raising his voice to drown out his friend’s complaints, “that Minho is always right about everything, and we should never ever question his judgment or his reasoning. Good that?”

“Technically, this was Thomas’ idea,” Alby pointed out. It was a petty thing to bring up, but he really wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone or anything but Newt and a cup of coffee right now, let alone a self-congratulatory Minho. Newt, who was standing close behind him with his hands resting lightly on Alby’s waist, ducked his head and pressed his face into his boyfriend’s shoulder to muffle a laugh.

Unruffled, Minho retorted, “Thomas may have laid some of the foundation, but I was the one who actually did the work. It’s the artist who makes the art, Alby, not the muse.”

Alby felt Newt snort. “Oh my God, Min, are you this obnoxious every time you’re right about something?” he asked, his breath tickling Alby’s neck.

“Only when the people who were wrong were equally obnoxious. Which you two definitely, definitely were,” Minho said, sliding lazily to the floor and heading in the direction of his own bedroom. Just before he closed the door, he called over his shoulder, “For the record, I’m not done messing with either of you. Next, I’m gonna get you to like kale!”

Alby turned his head to look at Newt. _Kale?_ he mouthed. Newt only laughed and wrapped his arms tighter around him.

It was going to be a great year.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end! I thought about doing a segment from Newt's POV on the date but it would have broken up the flow. As for why he's going out with Clint (and why Clint's older than them)--gray hair and being a doctor are basically two of the most attractive qualities a human being can possess, in my incredibly shallow opinion, and also I just thought it was easiest/most fun this way.
> 
> A lot of Nalby fics have Newt freaking out and worrying over his feelings and that's great, but I have to say writing Alby as the one who's totally irrational about feelings was incredibly fun and I recommend it a lot. Though I promise that offscreen Newt was being almost exactly as irrational because these two are kind of huge dorks when it comes to each other.
> 
> If you think the way I totally glossed over their actual breakup fight was a giant, lazy copout, you're correct! I don't like writing fights, plus I felt like it was kind of unnecessary to go into the actual details of what they said since, y'know, it was a fake fight. But mainly it just saved me a ton of writing.
> 
> I don't recommend saying "I love you" as a romantic icebreaker. Like, it just seems like a really, really bad idea. That said, this is a fanfiction so I can do whatever the hell I want.
> 
> Overall I really fell in love with this AU and I'd like to come back to it for some Sonya/Harriet or Thominho or general stories, but I have a super busy semester coming up so I don't know if I'll actually be able to do that. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed this, and if not, well, I'm not much of a writer so I'm apologetic but not surprised.


End file.
